Work Text:
The sunlight of the early morning peeks in, bathing Frank in a warm light that never ceases to amaze me.
But then again, what else never ceases to amaze me about Frank Iero?
Let’s start with how his tattoos always manage to stick out; delicate pieces of art that I just constantly want to touch, marvel, and admire.
His hair, always so soft and shiny, medium length, black, standing stark against his brilliantly pale skin.
The way his fingers twitch ever so slightly in his sleep, mimicking the movements he would make while playing guitar.
His soft, steady breathing, how he murmurs in his sleep, sometimes my name crossing his lips.
The scruff on his face, rough yet soothing against my skin, how it suits him so well.
These are the things I love about Frank, and these are the things that make Frank, well, Frank.
I watch him sleep, sipping on the tea I have already brewed for myself, stroking his hair and the pale flesh of his neck, tracing a finger over the scorpion tattoo that sits so high. I always chuckle every time I see it; for it’s a testament to his stubbornness and ambition.
I’m careful not to wake him, because he gets quite moody in the mornings, and because I love watching the beautiful creature that is my boyfriend sleep peacefully.
I wish he would let me draw him when he’s like this: peaceful, unguarded.
I muse, wanting desperately to just slink out of the room and grab my sketchpad and a pencil, and just draw him without his knowledge.
I sigh quietly, knowing if I did that, he would not be happy. He doesn’t get how perfect he is to me. I resume my ministrations, letting my mind wander.
Unfortunately, I have not done a great job of being light with my touches, because on one particularly long stroke on his scorpion tattoo, he stirs, turning over to face me, his eyes fluttering.
“Mmph.” He mumbles, and I smile. Might as well wake him up even more.
I stroke his face, dragging my thumb over his bottom lip, down to his chin, and I let it linger there as I lean downwards, pressing my lips to his. I can feel his mouth curl up into a small, sweet smile, and I know he’s awake. His eyes open, hazel staring into hazel, his warm breath cascading onto my face as he murmurs out a sleepy “Gerard.”
“Good morning, Frank,” I whisper, sitting back up to place my tea on the side table and sliding under the covers to cuddle up next to him, tucking myself into his arms.
“Mm, good morning Gerard,” he whispers back, squeezing me tightly, burying his face in my hair, inhaling my scent.
Things are silent for a few moments as we both enjoy each others warmth.
“You look so beautiful when you sleep, you know?” I say, my voice muffled by his chest, and he chuckles.
“I know, you’ve told me on numerous occasions, Gee.” He says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
I hesitate. “Let me draw you?”
He sighs. “No, Gerard, we’ve talked about this. I’m just… no. Please. I’m not worth the effort to draw.” He moves back a little, scooching down so that our faces are level, and I frown.
“Don’t ever say that, Frankie. You’re always worth the effort. I want to draw you to show you how beautiful you are to me.”
“Gerard…” He says, trailing off when he sees the pout on my face. He looks like he’s struggling against denying me, now that I’ve used the only thing that makes him weak. He looks away, instead staring at my lips as he plays with my cropped black hair, trying to avoid answering.
I roll my eyes and turn away from him, crossing my arms as best as possible. He sighs, and pulls me close to him, my back flush against his front. He presses kisses along my neck, nuzzling the skin there, and I squirm, ticklish.
“If I say yes, will you stop your insufferable pouting?”
I nod. “Yes.”
He chuckles. “So be it then. Off you go, Picasso; fetch your paper and pencil.” I smile, and extract myself from his grasp, practically jumping out of bed. I leave the room, and make my way into my studio, grabbing what I need and coming back, only to see him shirtless and laying on his side, smiling at me.
“How do you want me?” He asks, a hint of nervousness in his voice.
I set down my supplies and get on the bed, setting him up at an angle. He has one arm under his head, the other resting on his belly, his legs relaxed against the bed. I turn his head so that he faces me, and I smile.
“Just like that. Stay like that for as long as possible, okay?” I instruct, and he nods.
I grab my pencil and paper and settle myself on the edge of the bed, giving him one last smile before getting to work.
I begin sketching out his head, focusing on his face, how he seems so calm, peaceful, relaxed, his mouth slightly open, his hair covering one side of his face, and I can’t help but blush at the sight of him.
He notices.
“Are you really blushing, Gerard?” He asks, smiling.
“Can’t help it, love, you’re just… so fucking beautiful.”
“Hm.” His grin only gets bigger and I look away, not wanting to get distracted by that dazzling smile of his.
After I finish a few more details, (focusing mainly on that scorpion), I move onto the torso, making sure to carefully detail each of his tattoos.
After the torso, I work on the legs, carefully detailing those too, and I shade a few spots, finally finished. I smirk, happy at the masterpiece I’ve created.
“Wanna see it, babe?” I ask, and he nods, getting up from his position.
I hand him the drawing, and he looks at it, dragging one finger over it.
“It’s beautiful, Gee. Really. It’s really beautiful.” He pulls me close, laying the drawing gently on the bed, kissing my forehead. “You’re so talented.”
“Hm. I’m even more talented at something else, too,” I say, and he laughs.
“Oh, and what might that be?” He says.
I giggle then curl into his side, nuzzling his neck.
“Cuddles.”